


It was very cold that autumn night.

by Deilia



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is Really Bad at Feelings, El ingles no es mi primer idioma, No beta morimos como Dream, No beta morimos como Tommyinnit, Pero el mar abraza a Dream, Suicidio Implicito, The Author Regrets Nothing, Use traductor para esto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deilia/pseuds/Deilia
Summary: Dream has a very poetic way of falling (And it takes a whole freezing night, but it falls anyway)
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream & Luke | Punz & Niki | Nihachu & Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Karl Jacobs & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble & Everyone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	It was very cold that autumn night.

It was very cold that autumn night.

It was a damp cold, the kind that pierced your clothes and turned your bones to ice, leaving you shivering within seconds of leaving.  
And it was clearly worse since he was on the coast, on top of a small cliff, completely removed from the heat of the city, with nothing but his shoes, a pair of pants and a thin shirt.

He could hear the surf beneath him, the soft murmur of the waves and the tide crashing against the stones.

He moved his cold-numbed arms to the back of his head, gently pressing the clasp that allowed him to have his mask on. A chill ran painfully through his body as the salty, damp air hit his face.

He ignored whatever his body was determined to feel and he moved to the edge, sitting up slowly and letting his legs dangle and sway. The smiling white mask now rested beside him, limp on the cold grass.

He knew for a fact that no one would be looking for him for a long time; No one had ever seen him slip away before, now they would probably all be asleep and tomorrow they would surely be too busy interacting with each other to notice the lack of him.

And when they went to look for him (and they would, eventually, when they needed something from him, when they went to look for him and saw that he was nowhere) it would be too late to do anything.

So he just stood there, looking without really looking down at the pristine dark water, disconnecting his mind from all his surroundings, just waiting.

And he soon stopped feeling the cold, the numbness in his arms and his legs disappeared, any sound was gently blocked to find himself replaced by the lullaby of the water, his legs swaying unconsciously.

He just stood there, waiting.

The sun began to rise at some point, the blazing glow of it pulling it out of his thoughts.

The light first hit his eyes, as always, but the heat first hit his forehead, then his eyes (Now closed), then his cheeks and his nose, his lips, his neck...

And when the light reached the end of the cliff, when the breaking of the waves turned to sparkling gold and sparkling, he took a deep breath, enjoying the softness of the scent of dew, he smiled.

And as one sea turned to gold and sky, another sea fell gently from his eyes.

He leaned forward, toward the treasure and riches the world held for him.

The mask was behind him, forgotten, cold and wet.

It was very cold that winter morning.

It was very cold, but Dream never came home.


End file.
